


Wanted

by deinvati



Series: AELDWS July 2017 [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bank Robber!Eames, Banker!Arthur, Drabble, M/M, Train Bandit!Eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: A fast hand with a gun, a loose sense of morals, and a wink that’s just a little too familiar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written Week 5 of AELDWS July 2017.  
> Prompt: scandal  
> Genre: historical AU  
> Word count: between 300 to 400 words
> 
> Thanks to Lystan, for her cheer-reading and beta as always!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prequel to the drabble I ended up submitting because I couldn't cut it down far enough, and in the end, decided I didn't want to. I like them both, though, and they go together so well!

The portly gentleman with the tobacco-stained mustache sitting on the train next to him cleared his throat, then did it again, pointedly. Arthur looked up from his book, irritated, to see him glaring at the man seated across from them.

The man smiled a bland, patronizing smile back, and the walrus next to him frowned and ruffled his newspaper, lifting it higher to block out whatever sight the man provided that didn't appeal. Not that Arthur could figure out what that would have been. The train was crowded, packed with passengers traveling across the flat of the American west, the rails so new they practically smelled like fresh paint. Arthur had gotten on the train early, and the seat in front of him remained unclaimed until seconds before the train started from the station. The man was unremarkable, even though he was handsome, his nondescript brown suit and combed hair doing their best to detract from his aquiline nose and, good lord, sinful looking lips.

Arthur blinked and flushed when he realized the wayward track of his thoughts and saw he was staring at the same time the other man did. His lips quirked and he winked at Arthur. Arthur's face flamed and he immediately slammed his eyes back to his book and refused to look up again.

He'd read the same paragraph three times before the walrus next to him blustered and stiffened, and Arthur looked up reluctantly. The man across from him was staring at Arthur, openly, hungrily, and Arthur felt the heavy gaze zing down his limbs. They locked eyes and Arthur vaguely registered the walrus rustling his newspaper and clearing his throat again before the man looked at over at him and made a kissing motion.

The walrus sucked in an indignant breath, folded up his paper and stood, excusing himself as he went to, presumably, find somewhere else to sit.

The man looked pleased. "Mr. Charles Eames, at your service," he said once they were alone. "You can call me Eames." He extended his hand.

His British accent threw him for a moment and Arthur hesitated but shook it. "Arthur Levine," he offered, the brisk handshake continuing far longer than propriety insisted.

"And where are you headed this fine morning, Arthur?" he said with too much familiarity when he finally dropped Arthur's hand. Arthur decided he didn't mind, if Eames was going to roll his name around him his mouth like that. He raised an eyebrow.

"The same place as everyone else on this train," he said, "obviously."

"Ah, yes, but to what end, my good man?"

His crooked smile was uncomfortably charming and Arthur didn't see the harm in telling the truth. "I'm to be the manager of the new bank."

Eames' eyebrows climbed. "You don't say! A smashing waistcoat like that on a bank manager? Hard to imagine."

Arthur preened a bit under his impressed stare and ran a hand down the brocade, self-conscious.

"And you, Mr. Eames?" he said, deflecting.

"Oh, I'm a collector," Eames said.

Arthur cocked his head. "A collector? Of what?"

"Pocket watches, billfolds, ladies jewelry. I collect all sorts."

Arthur blinked his confusion as Eames withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it over the lower half of his face and stood. He pulled a gun from his waistband and walked the few steps to where the conductor was drowsing at the back of the carriage to wave it lazily under his nose.

"Stop the train," Eames said in a gruff American accent. "Don't make me shoot you and do it myself."

The man nodded and turned to pull the cord and send the signal to the engine room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention!" Eames called as the train slowed. Several other handkerchiefed men stood, also brandishing guns. "Put your valuables in the bags that are being passed around and no one gets hurt."

The men distributed the bags, shouting demands as people cowered. Eames oversaw them, and when the bag reached Arthur, Eames leaned down to whisper, "And don't forget that lovely watch fob, darling." His switch in accents was jarring.

Arthur glared and dropped it in the bag. "You're despicable," he hissed.

Eames just winked. "Oh, you have no idea. But you're going to be the new bank manager, yes? So I'll probably see you soon, Arthur."

He straightened and addressed the carriage again, his voice once again growly and unrecognizable. "Thank you for your cooperation. Have a lovely afternoon."

He and the other men exited the train and Arthur looked out the grimy window to see a waiting group of horses, saddled and ready for the escaping bandits. Eames mounted easily, swinging his leg over and turning the stallion to face the train. He made a motion like he was blowing a kiss, and then turned and raced with his crew across the plains.


	2. Chapter 2

****

Arthur had been the new bank manager for three months before he got the telegram the home office was sending a senior manager for an inspection. He sighed. It had been nice getting to know the dusty gold-mining town on his own, but he steeled himself for what was hopefully an uneventful and  _speedy_  visit.

Unsurprisingly though, the entitled bureaucrat they sent second-guessed everything Arthur did while simpering to the townsfolk coming in, using big words without saying anything. Arthur detested him.

Then trouble walked through the bank's front door. The man was dressed in a weathered black duster, scuffed cowboy hat and boots, and black bandana covering the lower half of his face. But Arthur would have recognized those eyes anywhere.

"No," Arthur said with finality. "No, no, no. You can turn around and leave."

"Oh, my, Mr. Levine!" the bank inspector sputtered, "I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding! Surely this gentleman is just here to conduct some business." He yanked Arthur's arm and hissed in his ear, "You cannot judge a customer based on their clothing attire. Surely you've heard the phrase, 'The customer is always right?'"

"Have you ever actually worked with customers before?" Arthur hissed back.

"Well, I declare, Arthur, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" Eames asked, this time in a lazy southern drawl.

Arthur glared.

"Do you… know this man?" the bank inspector asked Arthur, looking dubious.

"No."

"Why, Arthur, I am  _crushed_!" Eames said. He still hadn't removed his bandana. "He's joking, of course."

"He… seems to know you."

Arthur scowled. "Mr. Fischer, this man is a liar and a thief, and he is not welcome in this bank."

"Darling, what a horrible thing to say. I've never lied to you, not once. Why, the last time we were… together," Eames said, stressing the innuendo until Mr. Fischer flinched, "Arthur gave me his watch fob simply because I asked for it."

"You had a gun in my face."

"A gun!?" Eames asked. "Is that what we're calling it, now?" Then he winked.

Arthur drew his own gun from behind the counter. "You're not going to rob this bank, Mr. Eames."

Eames  _tsk_ ed behind his bandana. "Is that the best you can do, Arthur?" He swung the rifle up from where he'd had it tucked in his duster. "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling."


End file.
